


“I wanted to apologise for zealously representing the interests of my client, at your expense.”

by dark_side_of_the_moon



Category: The Good Fight (TV), The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 04:32:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11890071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_side_of_the_moon/pseuds/dark_side_of_the_moon
Summary: Just a quick bit of smut.  Takes place at the end of Series 1, Episode 23 when she turns up at his workshop.





	1. Zealous

He slid the door open and looked at her, she took off her sunglasses slowly and smiled at him. He hesitated, a hand on the door ready to slide it closed again and walk away, that feeling of being used and humiliated still lingered. She held his gaze and waited. He pushed door wider and stepped back, inviting her in. She stepped into the coolness of his workshop and he closed the door behind her.  
“So, what brings you all the way out here?” She turned and looked at him, he was leaning against the door, arms folded across his chest.  
“I wanted to apologise for zealously representing the interests of my client, at your expense.” She leant back against a work bench.  
“That doesn’t really sound very apologetic.” She shrugged.  
“No. No, I suppose not from where you’re standing. I can appreciate that.”  
“Was there anything else?” he wasn’t going to make this easy for her. She looked him up and down and sighed.  
“Maybe.” She set down her purse and walked over to him. She stopped in front him, her breasts level with his folded arms, almost touching. He swallowed. She held his gaze, stepped closer. Disconcerted, he uncrossed his arms and she stepped in closer still, her breasts resting against his chest. He rested his hands on her hips, unsure whether to push her away or pull her closer. She rested her hands on his, leaned in and gently kissed him. He didn’t respond at first, the confusion and resentment lingering. But he didn’t pull away or push her away either, which she felt was a good sign. She moved her lips softly against his, testing his resolve. He closed his eyes and responded, slipping his arms around her and pulling her close, opening his mouth to hers. She slid her hands slowly up his arms to his shoulders, enjoying the warmth and the strength of him, pressing her body against his. He held her tighter, slipped his tongue between her lips, felt her smile against him. He felt annoyed again, but this time at himself. He wanted to be mad at her, to push her away and show her how much she’d hurt him after he’d tried to help her. But she’d come all the way out here, all soft and warm and sexy – the tight-fitting dress, the elegant make-up, the expensive perfume – she looked, smelled and tasted amazing. He wanted her. It was just that simple. He kissed his way along her jaw and she tilted her head back to give him better access to her neck. God, she wanted him so much. It had been that way from their first night together - such a good fit. Each quietly, patiently, teaching the other where and how to touch, kiss, stroke – one of the advantages of being older, none of the ego, the doubt or the anxiety. Just honesty, the relationship new but the sensations pleasurably familiar. The connection deep, the pleasure deeper. 

She slipped her arms from his shoulders, down his chest, circling his nipples through his shirt before moving lower, slipping her hands under the hem of his shirt, untucking his t-shirt and stroking his stomach. He kissed her harder, pulled her closer, sliding one hand slowly down her back to squeeze her ass and the other slowly up her back to unzip her dress. He felt her breathing quicken as he slowly slid the zip down. She slowly unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, slipping her hand gently inside to stoke him. He swallowed hard, feeling himself harden more with every slow stroke. She started to push his jeans and shorts down with her other hand, giving her better access, allowing her to wrap her fingers gently around him. He moaned into her mouth and pushed her backwards towards the work bench. She felt the cold steel against her bare back and shivered. He pushed her dress up and ran his hands gently over her panties, hooking his fingers over the top and sliding them gently from her hips, over her thighs and letting them slide silently to the floor. He pushed his knee between hers to open her to him and stroked the soft, warm skin between her thighs before moving upwards, gently parting her folds and stroking her clitoris. She moaned against him at the first touch and widened her stance. He stroked the length of her slowly, feeling her wetness increase with each stroke. She moved against his hand and moved her hand on him to the same rhythm. He buried his head in her neck, breathing hard, knowing he wouldn’t last much longer. He eased her hand away and rubbed his length against her clit, up and down, slowly covering himself in her wetness. She moaned, breathing fast, shallow breaths, needing release as much as he did. In one smooth stroke, he slid into her, felt her muscles grip him gently and he started to pump into her. She came quickly, he felt her body contract as she whispered his name, moving faster against him. He matched her speed, then pumped harder and faster, surrendering to his own release. They rocked against each other gently, enjoying every last bit of pleasure they could before he gently slid out of her, leaning against her and kissing her again.  
“God, we do good make-up sex” she smiled, nuzzling his neck. He leant back and looked at her, all seriousness, and frowned.  
“Well, you might feel better but I think you’ll find I’m the wronged man here. It’s going to take more than a quick bang in my workshop to make me feel better.” She smiled, tried not to laugh.  
“What else will it take?” He thought for a moment.  
“At least a few more.” She smiled and shrugged.  
“Well, I’ve got time, and my overnight bag in the car. And I do owe you - you put a lot of time into that reconstruction, didn’t bill me for the effort and helped me win my case so…..where next?”


	2. Target Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation as requested, Diane "working off" her debt for the free advice....or not.

They had kissed for a while longer in the workshop, then he’d offered her a beer, suggesting they take it outside while he thought about how she could best “pay down her debt”, as he called it, for his work on the case. They sat on a bench behind his barn, enjoying the sun, less so the low calorie, low alcohol beer.   
“Remind me again why we’re drinking this.” She scowled at the bottle.  
“It was on special offer. And I’m trying to be healthier. And I can shoot if I drink this – low alcohol see” he tapped the label “minimum impairment to both my aim and my judgement.”  
“Well, I can’t comment on either of those” she laughed.  
“Let me show you.” He set down his beer and disappeared into the workshop. She closed her eyes and leant back against the bench, enjoying the sun, the afterglow of workshop sex. Not so much the beer, but then, you couldn’t have everything. She heard him return and opened her eyes, saw the gun. She still felt slightly uncomfortable around guns, for all the time she spent with him. “Come on.” He held out his hand and he pulled her to her feet, walking around the side of the barn. He pulled a few plastic bottles from a box near the fence and lined them up along it, walked back to her. “OK. Coke bottle, 3rd from the left” He sighted the target, squeezed the trigger and the plastic exploded into the trees. “See.”   
“Very impressive” She smiled.  
“Your turn” he flipped on the safety and held out the gun to her. She shook her head and put her hands behind her back.  
“Nope, I don’t think so.”  
“Come on. Free shooting lesson. If you’re sober enough to drive, you’re sober enough to shoot.” She doubted this logic but pushed her gun crime statistics from her mind. She hesitated, looking at the gun, then accepted it.  
“Ok.” Deep breath. She took off the safety and sighted the empty Sprite bottle on the end. She felt him behind her, resting his hands on her hips. She tried to focus on the target, aware of his hands drifting upwards.  
“What are you doing?” She asked.  
“Testing your concentration.” He kissed her neck and gently squeezed her breasts.  
“Is this an approved teaching method?”  
“I’m developing my own method. You need to lean forward more” more kisses “or the recoil will knock you off balance.” She leant forward, pushing her breasts into his hands as he gently squeezed again. “Perfect.” She breathed deeply, struggling to focus on the target, the last bottle in front of the tree. She aimed, fired, and missed – just grazing the tree behind.  
“Fuck!” She pushed away from him. “This is a really crappy teaching method” she pointed out.  
“No, I think you’ll find you’re just easily distracted.” He smirked, looking her up and down. “You just need to focus is all.”  
“Oh yeah? You try it.” She held out the gun to him and he took it, smirking again. He checked the chamber and took up position.  
“Hang on.” She stood behind him and pressed herself against him. He smiled.  
“Can I shoot now?”  
“Just a minute, you’re positioning is off, recoil or whatever” she whispered into his ear. She eased his shoulder up slightly, stroked her hand slowly down his shoulder blades, around his front to stroke his chest. She kissed the sweet spot just below his ear and felt him shiver, before running her hands down his front, over his stomach, his abdomen, resting on his zipper.  
“You done?” He shifted from foot to foot, trying to focus, feeling himself stiffen at her touch.  
“No.” She slowly unzipped his fly and slipped her hand inside. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Fuck. She was right, this was a crappy teaching method. With her other hand, she unbuckled his belt and flipped the button on his jeans. He felt the pressure ease until she slipped her hand into his shorts and wrapped her fingers gently around him. He moaned, tried to focus. “OK, just lean forward a bit more.” She stroked him gently and he did as she asked. “Perfect. OK, try it now”. He took a deep breath and fired, skimming the tree as she had done. “Bad luck. Try again.” She wrapped her fingers around him again and started to slide her hand up and down, breathing against his neck. He was breathing harder, feeling the pleasure building.  
“I think it’s your turn now” he murmured, trying to turn around. She squeezed him and he moaned.  
“No, no, I think you need to show me one more time how a ballistic master deals with distractions. I am just an amateur after all – I’ve got a lot to learn.” She was practically purring now, nuzzling his neck, drawing tiny circles with her tongue. He took a deep breath and sighted the target again, his hands shaking as she slid her hand slowly up and down his shaft. He fired twice, this time missing even the tree.  
“You’re right, this is….a ……really….crappy…..teaching method” he moaned, rocking against her hand “Fuck, Diane, you gotta stop…..” she heard the desperation in his voice and stilled her hand, gently withdrawing it, wrapping both arms around his waist, smiling against his neck. He turned in her arms, flipping on the safety and resting the gun against her lower back, squeezing her ass with his other hand. He rested his head on her shoulder, breathing hard. She kissed his temple, he could feel her smiling. “Fuck” He breathed again, shivering.  
“What does the ballistics master say about panties?”  
“What?” He mumbled into her shoulder, confused.  
“Panties – do I have to wear them when I’m shooting? Are they optional? I wouldn’t want to break the rules, offend your sensibilities.” He lifted his head, looked at her. “Well?” She smiled up at him. He said nothing, kissed her lips and gently slipped his hand up her skirt, stroking her ass. She sighed into his mouth, widening her stance as his hand drifted over her soft, naked skin, over her hip and down her front, slipping between her legs. She sighed with pleasure as his fingertips found her centre and started to stroke her gently. He kissed her hard, pulling her lower lip between his teeth, letting go, slipping his tongue into her mouth. The gun pressing into her lower back, the feel of his fingers circling her, teasing her, she felt weak with lust. Her hand drifted round his front, slipped inside his jeans again. He moaned, dropped the gun and grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away. He pushed her backwards, managing to knock her off balance, sending them both down and into the grass. He kissed her hard and she rocked against his hand as stroked her, she was breathing hard now, getting closer. She pushed his jeans and his shorts down, freeing him, and he slid into her. She bit down on his shoulder to muffle a scream and he swore at the pain, pushing as deep as he could go, holding her hips tightly. He adjusted his position, making sure he hit her clitoris with every stroke, wanting her to feel every move. She was panting now, desperate to come, the pleasure so intense she thought she would explode. He shifted his position again, pushed deeper and felt her body contract around him. She came hard and fast, moaning his name as the waves of pleasure rippled through her. He followed, pumping as if his life depended on it. He collapsed on top of her, breathing hard.  
“Fuck!” He panted, struggling for breath, clinging onto her, not wanting to let go. She laughed and kissed him again, smiling as he sighed and swore again. He held onto her, not wanting to move or break the contact. They lay there for a while, holding each other, just kissing. “So,” he said after a while “where are your panties?”   
“In my purse” she smiled. He kissed her gently and eased himself out of her, sitting up. She sat up too, pulling her dress down.   
“They’re optional, by the way, panties. I might put that in my new teaching manual.”  
“How to molest your students and miss your targets. It’s sure to be a best seller.” She smiled and kissed him again.  
“Well, I didn’t miss all my targets.” He ran his hand suggestively up her inner thigh and waited “Not the one that really matters.” She held his gaze and opened her legs to him. He brushed his thumb over her clitoris again, she leant back slightly, letting her knees fall further apart. He knelt between them, kissed the inside of her thigh, gently working his way up. She sighed at the sensation, his breath warm on her skin, his mouth edging ever closer. She lay back down and closed her eyes, feeling the anticipation build. She sighed as his tongue skimmed over her clitoris, reaching down to stroke his hair. God, he was good at this. She rocked her hips against him as he licked her, small circles, rotating over and around her clitoris. He could tell by her breathing that she was close. He smiled, could taste himself on her, found it strangely sexy. She rocked herself harder against him, she was panting now. He paused, flicked his tongue over her one last time, then sucked. She cried out his name as her orgasm hit, rocking herself against his mouth as the waves of pleasure rippled through her until they subsided. She lay there in the grass, panting. He slid up her body and kissed her lips. She could taste herself on him and smiled, wrapping her arms around him. He broke the kiss and rested his head on her shoulder, supporting his weight on his elbows.  
“Well, that’s two….and a half….apologies. What next?” He smiled into her shoulder.  
“I think you’ll find that’s one apology followed by a free shooting lesson and…. customised feedback.” He kissed her neck. “And free beer.” She thought about this for a second.  
“Well, the shooting lesson was compromised by the sexual harassment….”  
“Which was mutual.” She shrugged.  
“You’re a licensed professional taking advantage of an inexperienced amateur whom you had plied with beer beforehand.” She said in her most authoritative lawyer voice. “I think I could have you struck off. It’s a good job I’m not underage too.” She could feel him chuckling against her shoulder and smiled, kissed his temple. “And that beer really sucks. Do you have any wine? Or scotch?” He eased himself up and helped her up to.  
“Sure. Both are in the kitchen. Help yourself. I just need to lock the gun away. I’ll get your purse too. You might want those panties.” She kissed him softly, stroked his hair and headed towards the house, calling over her shoulder  
“Or, I might not.”


End file.
